


Contact

by Argentum_Industires



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect Andromeda
Genre: AU, First Contact War, I had to change things to make all these people come together, Prequel, Timeline altered, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-11-17 11:33:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11274579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argentum_Industires/pseuds/Argentum_Industires
Summary: AU prequel of Mass Effect, focusing on the First Contact War. Basically, I kept having this idea of a TV show with all our favourite old timers busting ass together during the First Contact War, and since it would just not leave my mind, I decided to write it down. To get them all together, I'm messing with the timeline a bit - making the War last a bit longer than three months, putting in a few more conflicts, adding a couple more parts to the Alliance, and sliding in some OCs and the like. Hence, AU.





	1. How it all began

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go...
> 
> By the way, this is a total WIP, so I have not named my OCs yet, officially. Last names aren't changing, but names are up for grabs, so if you'd like, you can drop a comment naming them! Yay, reader inclusion!

As the spaceport bustled into action, soldiers jogging in formation into their ships, commanders barking orders from docking ramps, equipment crates being lifted into storage compartments, two figures casually strolled across the floor, gazing at the movement that surrounded them.

One was completely giddy. She practically bounded along, a wide smile on her face, eyes dodging around enraptured by the movement. The second followed at a more mellow pace, long strides making up for slower movement, a half-smirk cocked as she amusedly looked on at her friend’s antics.

“C’mon, how can’t you be excited? This is the moment we’ve been waiting for, a chance to get out there properly!” The first asked, pirouetting around to look at her partner, dark brown gaze never fully focusing on one thing, but peering up slightly to reach the taller woman’s blue eyes which twinkled with amusement, steadfastly fixed on her.

“Maybe because I’m not acting like a complete rookie on her first assignment?” The companion answered, swerving to the right to avoid a hurried looking private who came barrelling through carrying a crate of munitions.

“Oh but Maria, it _is_ the first proper mission we get since the conflict started! I mean, guarding farmers on our first colonies is all well and good, but now we’re at war, it’s a whole new ballgame!”  
“I always knew there was a true war mongerer hidden behind that “We must follow procedure” façade. Glad to see she’s making an appearance”

“You can’t fool me with your sarcasm. I’ve known you since we were six, and I can smell your bullshit.”  
“I’ll admit I’m curious to know what mission is so important we would both receive calls from High Command to report. Whatever it is, they’re keeping it under their hats.”

“And you’re also excited to finally serve with your best friend who you haven’t seen in action since boot camp?”

The brown eyed woman turned fully, stopping both herself and her companion in their tracks. Her partner peered at the Latina with an inscrutable gaze, a slight frown pinching her face, before relenting into a grin.

“And I’m excited to finally serve with my best friend who I haven’t seen in action since boot camp, Amelia.”

“I knew you were a big softie deep down-“

“Don’t push it.”

The two women continued on their route, packs swinging off their shoulders, until they arrived at their destination.

“This is it?”

“Section D5, quadrant E. This is definitely it.”

“Well then” Amelia said, gesturing at the frigate that awaited them “After you”

Maria strode up the docking ramp, pushing her hand unto the hand scanner for identification. It buzzed for three seconds, and then flashed green, the decompression chamber’s doors sliding open without preamble to let them in.

The two women marched through the door, right into what appeared to be an armoury. It then widened out into CIC, the pilot’s cabin tailing off to the left and to the prow of the ship, giving away its position due to the sheer amount of light that was coming out from it.

In the ops centre stood four people, all leaning against the control table, apparently in the middle of light conversation before their arrival.

The first stood up straighter to welcome them, and Amelia recognised the captain’s insignia on his uniform.

“I imagine you must be Captain Ryder?” she said.

“You assume correctly. And you must be Gunnery Chief Vasquez and” his eyes swivelled to Maria “Operations Chief Harper.”

“Yes, sir” answered Amelia, right as Maria responded with “That’s right”

Vasquez quickly side-eyed her companion, who was currently leaning against the door jamb that separated armoury and CIC, travel pack laying by her feet, but Captain Ryder simply turned to the other crewmates.

“These are your new squad mates. XO Hackett, Second Lieutenant Chakwas, and Operations Chief Anderson.” Each member promptly nodded at their names being called out. “We’re currently awaiting our engineers, our pilot and the provisions officer, and we should be good to start.”

As Ryder spoke, Maria sized up the people present. Hackett was built like a whippet, tall and lean, blue eyes following Ryder as he spoke. He looked to be the second oldest of them, ash blond hair giving him a mature look. Chakwas, younger than the XO, stood slightly separate from the group, brown bangs hiding half of her face. Lastly there was Anderson, back ramrod straight, bulkier with muscle than Hackett and slightly shorter, and the only one not looking at Ryder. Because he was scrutinising Maria right as she was observing him. His mouth turned into a frown, and he returned his attention to the Captain, who continued to speak.

Amelia, on her part, was aching to find out what this had all been about. The message from high command had been cryptic at best, simply ordering her to show up to the frigate. Her curiosity was doubly piqued when, as she talked over QEC to Maria, she found out they had received the same assignment. Considering they hadn’t been in the same battalion, much less unit, since volunteering for service, it seemed extremely coincidental for them both to be picked. Contrarily to Maria, though, Amelia did have impulse control, and so simply stood at ease waiting for the Captain to explain what was going on, which he did not seem very intent on doing.

“For now” Ryder continued “I was simply explaining the layout of the ship. You all just came through the decompression chamber and armoury. Deck below is the galley, crew bunks and pods, and medical centre. Bottom deck is engineering and storage, as well as our MAKO. Top deck is my cabin, QEC room and strike operations centre. Escape pods are two per level, each one can hold five people, so we have spares.”

Strike ops? Well, that was certainly a clue for Amelia on their purpose.

“Any questions?”

No one answered, but before the silence could drag on, the doors swished open and three more members embarked, moving past Harper and zeroing in on the Captain. The first was a man around his late thirties, the second a much younger woman. The third stood aside from them.

The man spoke. “Lieutenant commander Liao and Service Chief Gamal reporting, sir”

“Ah, my engineers.”  
“Yes, sir. Where can we set up?” answered Gamal.

“Bottom deck on the right is your domain. Can we make it on schedule?”

“Yes, sir. If we start working now, sir.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it. Dismissed.”

The two engineers brushed past everyone else, dragging what appeared to be a small mountain of equipment behind them, into the elevator, barely acknowledging anyone’s existence.

The third figure stood there until Ryder’s eyes moved onto her, before speaking up.

“First lieutenant Polzin, sir, your provisions officer. I’ll assume storage is right next to engineering, and will set up there.”

All Ryder had to do was nod and she was off, skirting around the elevator in favour of the stairs.

Well, that was weird.

Before anyone could say a word, though, the doors opened again, and a figure came barrelling through. He almost bounced off Maria, tripping his way into the CIC but miraculously keeping his balance and not slamming into the control table. He righted himself, an apologetic smile already on his face as he began to talk.

“I’m so sorry I’m late sir, it’s just transport got delayed because some cargo crate split open and it was slightly toxic so we had to go around, and then they didn’t drop us off at the right place, so I didn’t really know where to go and had to ask and then…” he trailed off when he realised he had six pairs of eyes staring at him in various states of amusement. He quickly stood at attention.

“Ahem, I mean, Serviceman 2nd class Silva at your command, sir.”

Five brains thought the exact same thing in unison: who the hell brought the kid on board?

Ryder scrutinised the young man before slowly nodding.

“The pilot I requested, I see. I hope your coordination sitting down is better than the one you’ve displayed vertically.”

Silva looked bashful, but kept quiet.

“Cabin’s over there. Leave your pack in the dormitory below and then start our pre-flight procedures, I want us out of here in thirty. Everyone else, reconvene here in twenty minutes for your briefing. Dismissed.”

Amelia turned around to Maria, who was still, aggravatingly, leaning against the door frame. Their eyes crossed and seemed to convey the same message.

What had they gotten themselves into?


	2. What are we doing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A second chapter the day later??? *gasp*  
> How did I do this? No clue, actually....
> 
> Comments are always appreciated! And first names are still up for grabs!

It ended up being surprisingly easy to divide up the bunks and sleeping pods. In the end, it seemed that the ship had been projected for a larger crew than one they had. Probably it had been, considering the extra escape pods, beds, and other items that the new crew had glanced when passing through the ship. 

“So, does anyone have a clue as to what our mission is?” asked Amelia. “Anyone I haven’t talked to yet” she said, stopping the sarcastic response she knew Maria had ready.

David leaned back from the storage locker he was stuffing his pack into to say “I’m not sure; I was on duty with the Second Fleet when I got the message. Just got told to pack up and report. Nothing more.”

“Same here” interjected Chakwas.

“And since both our Captain and XO aren’t giving up any answers yet…”

“We’re stuck here trying to put stuff in order for twenty minutes with no clue as to why.” laughed Anderson “Hey, at least we have room, right? Last ship I was on we were rotating bunks so we could all fit. One of the last vestiges of the old generation. At least you could count on several people to cover for you if you wanted to catch a break.”  
“Fair warning now to you all, you have to pass by the infirmary to get poked later, no covering.” added Chakwas

“Talking about clues, have you seen this ship? If we’re the crew, it’s massive. Why waste something like this on us?” wondered Amelia

“The engineers know.” Maria’s statement caused the other three to stop and turn to look at her.

“How do you figure that?” challenged Anderson.

“Provision officer only guessed where storage was, XO is lapping up every piece of info the Captain puts out, even when repeated, the pilot’s the Freakin’ New Guy, and we’re here scratching our asses wondering what the hell is going on.” Maria turned around from her bunk, slinging her jacket over her shoulders. “Only ones apart from Ryder who knew our timetable were the techs. Didn’t need any confirmation. Ergo” she dragged the word out with a flourish of her hands “They know what we’re doing.”

“What was your division again?” asked Anderson

“103rd Rear Guard.”  
“The Paperwork Squad?” he looked on incredulously.

“That’s the one” she gave a half smile “Someone has to file everything that gets done on the ground by the 103rd Marine Division. System wouldn’t work without it. And from what I'm guessing, my job's gonna be exactly the same here: make sure you don't get court marshalled over incorrectly filed action reports. Lucky for you, I'm the best there is- been doing it a decent amount of time, too.”

“So you’ve never seen action?” Chakwas seemed worried about the revelation.

“Alliance ain’t that big" she paused "But I doubt I'll be on the ground with you anyway. Don't need to worry about me.” she responded, a seemingly sincere smile on her face

“Can’t say I saw much either” shrugged Amelia “Mostly just helping to start up colonies, putting up defences and the like.”  
“Same as Hackett then. Shit though, that guy’s seen some stuff. Never heard of another guy climb the ranks like him” responded Anderson, crossing his arms, looking on at his crewmates.

“I feel you now want us to ask you back” drawled Maria

He regarded her with a frown “Second and sixth Scout division. We were out there looking at the relays. We weren’t First Contact, but I’ve crossed the enemy a couple of times already. Spiky bastards that they are.”  
“Guess that’s why they picked you. Did you see Shanxi?” asked Chakwas.

“No, but I heard things are deteriorating faster than what is reported. Guerrilla tactics, localised strikes are how they’re keeping afloat, but I have no idea how long it’ll last” he sighed “How about you? What’s your file?”

Chakwas closed her locker.

“Well, I’ve been jumping from ship to ship for the last five years with only one constant: marines keep getting themselves hurt. Often in very stupid ways.”

“Guess you’re Doctor Chakwas then huh? We’ll try not to give you too much to do” smiled Amelia before checking her omni-tool. “Time’s almost up, we should get going.”

With one last sweep of the room, the four began to head back up to the CIC.

+++

As half the crew was talking, the young pilot strapped himself in for pre-flight checks.

“Control, this is flight GN 3754 requesting permission for departure, over.”

“3754 we have you on the roster, but you seem to have no flight plan, can you confirm? Over.”

Ryder walked into the cockpit.

“Control this is Captain Alec Ryder. We will be following route GZXSED. Over.”

A few beats of silence followed.

“Confirmed, 3754. Godspeed.”

Silva sat there for in silence, before turning to Ryder.

“Sir?”  
“Yes Silva?”  
“There is no route GZXSED, sir.”  
“I’m aware of that Serviceman, which is why you’ll be taking us to” Ryder imputed a location “These coordinates.  Think you can handle that?”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

As the pilot turned to making the final arrangements for departure, Engineer Liao’s voice came out of the intercom. “Engineering green. Ready when you are Captain.”

The four marines came out of the elevator, punctual to the second to Ryder’s orders. Good, he could work with that.

Hackett stood at the navigation sector of the CIC, ready to map and modify routes. Chakwas went over to him, as Anderson strode over to the command table with Vasquez. Harper simply leaned against the bulkhead. All eyes were on the Captain.

 “I’m sure you’re all curious to know about our mission. For now, I can tell you that the first leg is time critical, which is why we’re rushing to leave. You will be given more information once we’re on our way, but for now, prepare for departure.”

“All systems are green” reported Silva.

Ryder turned towards the prow. “Take us away, Serviceman”

The equipment anchors were retracted, the slight jolt making everyone inside reach out to stabilise themselves on instinct, before the thrusters kicked in and Silva carefully manoeuvred them to gracefully spin, gently coasting out of the spaceport before gradually accelerating to bring them out of orbital range in a smooth arc. Down in engineering, Liao and Gamal monitored drive core stats.

“Should we keep a full heat vent, sir?” asked Gamal

“Affirmative Chief, we’re still in friendly space. Let’s cut down venting when we’re five minutes from leaving FTL to reduce proximity alarms.”  
“Aye, aye, sir.”

“Alright, let’s see how she handles speed. Silva, we’re good to go for FTL down here”

“Roger that, starting FTL jump in three, two, one… now.”

With a kick, the ship lurched into faster than light speed. Not the smoothest transition, but not bad for a rookie. At least he didn’t get them pulverised---yet.

+++

Down in storage, one person wasn’t focusing on the manoeuvres. Rather, 1st Lt. Polzin was more entranced by the cargo she had been given. Her usual so far had been some basic crates of weapons and ammo, mixed with provisions and aid for colonists, maybe some relay equipment for the quantum entanglement communicators. Here, well, this was a different game. Top tier weaponry, including plasma rifles and the new Black Widow sniper were laid out, right next to next generation stealth equipment, portable mounted turrets, and caches of medigel, not to speak about what looked to be tailored armour and crates of incendiary, cryo and plutonium ammo.

Whatever the team was being tasked with, it was a safe guess they’d be headed into the hot zone of the conflict. But to do what? What was the Captain planning? And, for the love of God, where had they stored the food?

+++

The man who was presumed to hold the answers stood two decks above on the bridge, slowly returning from his check in with Silva to address the rest of the crew, who hadn’t changed much since they were aweigh, but seemed to be getting to work with relative ease. Harper had moved across and was conferring with Hackett, both quite engrossed in the navigational charts. Anderson and Vasquez were relaying readings down to engineering, and Chakwas was busy setting up the CIC info board.

Ryder cleared his throat, eliciting the attention of them all. He keyed in the intercom to relay his words to everyone on the ship. Anderson sneaked a glance down at his board and realised that Harper had been right – Ryder wasn’t transmitting to engineering, which meant their techs knew the plan.

“Now that we’re aweigh, I can bring you up to speed. Let’s get started, shall we?”


	3. So much to plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3! Wooooooooo! And it's over 50% longer than the first two! *trumpet sound*
> 
> Comments and kudos tell me you like this! Feel free to leave some!
> 
> And seriously guys, you could put your own name in this story and you choose not to? And I'm not just saying that because I'm terribly indecisive when it comes to names....

“A scouting team was able to capture an enemy ship two weeks ago. Those aboard resisted providing us with any help, obviously, but their on board communications and files contained valuable information on the whereabouts of several key Turians in the hierarchy, including logs about their movements and future locations. Most importantly” Ryder paused “It had the details of five human defectors.”

Each crewmember reacted in their own way. Emotions from the rage in Anderson’s clenched fists to the indignation in Vasquez’s eyes flashed before him.

“High command decided to form a team to deal with this new information. Our goal will be to capture, alive, all those on this list. The Turians will be held for negotiation, and the humans will be brought to face justice back on Earth. If it helps, consider this a rescue mission where no one wants to be rescued.”

That brought out a few smiles.

“We are expecting heavy resistance in treacherous territories, and we are alone. The Alliance can’t risk sending in a dreadnaught to get us out if we fail. You” he indicated to the crew “Are here for two reasons. One, you were picked due to the unique skills you have presented in your time with the Alliance. You’ve all displayed excellence in your respective fields. The second criteria is that you were available. As you well know the Alliance is stretched thin and our enemy has more experience with interspacial warfare. We have to take our resources where we can without compromising our defensive and offensive lines. Due to the restrained timeframe, we had to move fast, and I’ve been told we may receive additional crew down the line, but for now, this is us. Any questions?”

As the Captain had been speaking, Anderson slowly turned to survey the crew. So, Karin was the medic, Hackett the XO and navigations officer, and he was the scout. Vasquez mentioned protecting colonists, maybe a defence specialist? The ones downstairs each had their defined roles. So why throw in a rookie pilot and a desk job?

He had to get his hands on their files. David Anderson might’ve changed ships often, but he always liked to know who would be watching his back on board. And something about this just didn’t sit right. In the meantime, he resorted to turning back to the Captain.

“Sir, who’s the first target, sir?”

“The current Turian Primarch”

Dead silence.

“Sir, a tried and tested strike team could do that. Maybe. Us? Not so much.” deadpanned Maria “With all due respect, of course”

“Well Lieutenant, you’re going to have to make it work, because according to those logs we got, there’s going to be a few short hours in which the Primarch is _not_ the most protected alien of their Navy, and that’s when we get to strike. Any other objections?”

They all looked at him resolutely. No one moved.

“The files are here” he sent them to their omnitools “I urge you to read them quickly. You have two days before we reach the planet, and the Primarch gets there the one after. Start planning without me, I need to report in. And Lieutenant Harper” he pinned her with a frown “With me.”

The CIC came to life with the end of the phrase. Vasquez and Anderson took over the control table, light pouring out of it and illuminating the room, covering everyone in brightness and seemingly jolting them out of a trance. Each of them began to quickly skim their reports, omnitools spooling up, orange glare mixing with the light of the control table, the chimes of the programs being opened bouncing off the walls, the rhythmic tapping of the keys coming in after a few seconds, along with mutters as the crew got to work and puzzled through their jobs and assignments. The noise echoed around the room, only highlighting the grandness of the ship in respect to the short-staffed crew. Ryder and Harper’s footsteps rung out above the din as they headed into the elevator, a grave look on both their faces, neither speaking another word. Hackett followed them with his gaze until they entered, before joining the two Chiefs, head down in his files, glancing occasionally at the data being projected on the hologram that now rose above the surface the table and comparing it to his version.

++++

Chakwas started to highlight key points in her reports: data, preliminary assignments, team positions, all while pacing a few steps back and forth to take static pressure off her feet. They should get some seats for the CIC. Unsurprisingly, she was set to be the medic of the mission. Contrarily to most of her previous posts though, she would be an active field medic, no waiting on the ship for the team to return. This would require a different level of preparation than usual, automated restocking rotations, gear to be taken and a laundry list of other variables she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to consider. Chakwas stopped pacing to read the details about the EVAs they would be doing, sorting priority levels in her mind as she did. In the field she was to report to Hackett.

Him first then.

The gears in her head began to spin as she descended the stairs to the med-bay, stopping by the man to ask him to follow. She would need to get blood samples from each of them to acquire a best match for blood bags, and head down to meet Polzin in storage for medigel, as she was sure they hadn’t already kitted out the infirmary the way she preferred. After the ground crew she would get on to the airborne soldiers. Then came compression bandages for minor wounds, surgical sealers for absolute emergencies…

“You still with us Karin?” Hackett said, interrupting her train of thought.

The two of them knew each other from their early days in the Alliance, and had ended up crossing paths more often than not. She’d seen him charge through the ranks like a frenzied bull, but could never quite get a read as to what spurred him on so much.

“Karin?” he asked again, mild concern on his face as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m fine, Steven. Just planning the ways I’m going to have to patch you up when we get out there.” she answered with a small smile, which in turn earned her a dry laugh from the man.

“If you were anyone else, I’d say you were doubting me.”

“Not doubting, working on evidence. I have a clear memory of you sneaking into my room a few times to get yourself patched up without the brass finding out what you had gotten up to. One particular shuttle incident comes to mind…”  
He turned quite red at that. “Yeah, well…” he trailed off, grumbling slightly under his breath.

“Yeah, well.” she repeated, scanning her hand in front of the proximity sensor of the med-bay. The slightly warmer air of the med-bay greeted them as they walked in, the smell of antiseptic somehow already present in the atmosphere. She patted one of the beds, turning her omnitool into scanner mode as she did so.

“Up on the examination table with you, _XO_ ”.

+++++++

Back up in the CIC, Anderson and Vasquez stood at the command table. Vasquez pulled up the holographic map of the system, selecting their destination.

“Do you like warm weather?” she asked.

“I’m English” came the reply.

“That… doesn’t really answer my question.”

“Is it really important?” he minimised his omnitool, orange light flickering away as he pushed off his side of the table to circle around to her, footsteps incredibly loud now that it was only the two of them. The new generation ships were getting more and more silent, and he had the sneaking suspicion that this one was specially kitted out for stealth. The only other noise in the room was the dim sound of electronics coming from the cockpit. It seemed their pilot liked to fly with the connecting door open.

He braced his hands back on the table, focusing properly on the map, as Vasquez straightened from her leaning position next to him, flicking one hand to bring up stats as the other supported some of her weight on the table top. They really needed some chairs in here.

“Yes, sir, it is. This planet’s an oven. Perfect for the reptilian Turians, much less for us. The base they’ve established, as far as our satellites can tell, is in this” she zoomed further into the planet, pulling up rough aerial images of the territory “quadrant. Nothing but sand for miles on end. Weather in the 45 degrees Celsius, no respite except for periodical sandstorms, which at least provide some wind.”

“And no visibility.”

“That’s right, sir.”

“Drop the sir, Vasquez, you’re making me feel old.” he replied in a gruffer tone, a small inflection of humour at the end.  
“You’re my superior sir. Protocol’s not getting booted the first day. And I’m actually older than you.”

He turned his head slightly incredulously at her, but she was staring resolutely at the map, so he just shook it slightly before turning back to the matter at hand.

“If you dropped me in, I could scout the compound from the outside, get a lay of the land, guard rotations and any other surprises that could await us.” he continued.

She considered his request for a few seconds, quickly scanning the surface and base to see if it could be done.

“We’d have to leave you here” she pointed at a zone about a click from the main perimeter “There are reports of limited activity, and the dunes should cover us from their line of sight. After that, though, you’d be in the complete open.”

Pivoting slightly, she continued.

“I don’t know if it’s worth sending you in under these circumstances, not during the day, sir. It feels like creating an easy target for the enemy, and it could give away our presence if you were spotted. The night cycle, on the other hand, _could_ provide some cover. Tricky bit is that it falls to minus fifty when the sun’s down. If they have thermal, you’ll be a beacon, sir.”

“Could we use stealth gear?”  
“To mask thermal you’d have to take a suppressor and storage unit. Can you walk two kilometres in sand, scout out a base and possibly run in a dead sprint for half a click with a hundred extra pounds on your back, on top of the recon gear, weaponry and heated armour, in under six hours, sir?”  
“Six?”  
“Two star system, double cycle, accounting for the time taken by the ship to execute stealth manoeuvres and land without tripping any alarms, sir.”  
“It’s not impossible, but I see your point.”  
“Not only that, but you’d be on the ground team the next day after such an EVA. No, what I think we should do is send two of our recon drones. They won’t be as effective, but those guys have no problem with stealth, and have telescopic lenses. Harder to spot, harder to kill.”

He nodded slowly. It was a good first step. It also seemed that his first rough guess on her role had been partially correct. He turned his mind back to the plan.

“And after that?”  
“Depends on what the drones report, sir. Given information about the perimeter, external layout and guard patterns, we can cross it with the schedule of the Primarch and zero in on the moments when he’ll be exposed. This is a scouting station, after all. We won’t be facing battalions of soldiers. Just two score highly trained ones.”  
“That’s…reassuring.”  
“Why, is it really important, sir?”

For the second time in that conversation, Anderson was forced to stare at her incredulously. It looked like the Chief had some snark hidden away under her protocol.

“Let’s see what we can work out with aerial for now, Vasquez. We should also check in with Polzin, see what we have to play with when it comes to the drones.”


	4. Calm before the storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And after a month, I'm back. Not dead yet. I was actually at a wrting course, so... I was also incredibly glad to receive my first kudos! Thank you, mistery guest, for giving me one. You will not be forgotten. 
> 
> Comments and kudos make me want to go on!

Maria and Ryder stood silently in the elevator. He had closed off since their interaction in the CIC, while she had been seething internally over his words, over the mission, over the whole fucking thing. This was madness, she was sure of it. Leaving aside the risks of the mission, she was frustrated by the directive of Command. She could see the point of capturing the Turians as bargaining chips, but in all honesty, taking in the defectors left too much to chance. She knew the ins and outs of every aspect of military beurocracy, and just how ineffective it could become. Sure, military tribunals were far swifter than the civilian ones. But if there was one chance, one single red tape mess that could mean those bastards could walk, then...

The elevator dinged open mutely to let them out (these things really were slow – someone should get on to finding a solution) and the two soldiers marched silently forwards.

Ryder guided them into his quarters rather than the strike centre, which was curious. Maria took in the space. It wasn’t incredibly big, but it did give the CO total privacy and a decent amount of personal space. At the end of the room was a queen bed, to the left a wardrobe, a desk to the right and the door to a personal bathroom lay just past the entrance.

He took five steps in, hands clasped behind him, before turning stiffly, and there, in his eyes, was a dim fury.

“What the hell are you playing at, Harper?”

The door closed behind her, the yellow hue of the lock indicating that no-one would be barging in anytime soon. Maria leaned against it, arms crossed in front of her.

“I was voicing my concern over the parameters of the mission, sir.”

Her nonchalance seemed to only incite more anger.

“No, what you were doing was acting insubordinately, Harper.” He closed the distance between them by a couple of paces, hands unclasping and beginning to gesture. “An offence punishable through court marshalling. Because what you were doing was telling everyone aboard this ship that you couldn’t care less about my orders, and so why should they?”

He took a breath.

“I know your schtick Harper. I know why you spent the last year hidden behind a desk, working yourself ragged to make sure Marines cross their ts and dot their is. And I know why your file says you've been doing it for three." he straightened "Every mission in your time with RAISE, and every  _procedure_ you followed in the field. But aboard this ship, you are under my command.”

While the entirety of Ryder’s speech had been an impetuous stream of concentrated fury, one part was what got Maria to stand up straight.

“How do you know I was-am RAISE?”  
“I was informed as a condition for taking you aboard. After all, your _official_ resume would give me a beurocrat. Let us make things clear, Harper. When this mission is over, you can go back to your desk, but for now, you don't question, you follow. Are we clear?”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“One more thing before you go. Until further direction you stay on the ship. I don’t want you out in the field unless it’s an absolute emergency. I won’t have that liability.”

“Understood sir. Will that be all, sir?”

“Yes. Dismissed.”

When Harper left the room, Ryder rested his back against the wall and let out a sigh, trying to calm his shaking hands. He went through a mental tally in his head, weighing the pros and cons of every member of his new crew as he just stood and breathed. Make a list, sort it out. Categorise priorities, delineate mission parameters, sort assignments. Repeat. Breathe. He could do this.

He stood up straight at stretched his arms over his head, taking a last deep breath. It didn’t matter what wrenches Command threw into his operation, he could do this.

He bounced back and forth a few times. Hackett was devoted. Anderson was driven by single-minded resolve. He rolled his shoulders. His mechanics followed every directive to the letter. His pilot had broken every established record at the Academy. He hung his head, pressing down with his hand to stretch his back. Vasquez had held the line for two days against Turian cruisers. Chakwas could operate in the most hazardous conditions. Polzin was renowned for her ability to secure the best cargo. He punched the air a few times, got his blood pumping. And Harper had bent to his command.

He could do this.

++++

The next day passed in a flurry of activity around the ship. There was never a moment when someone wasn’t in the CIC planning, or talking to Polzin about munitions, or being dragged in by Chakwas for evaluations. The glow of omnitools permanently reflected off the walls as the crew assembled general plans of approach on the target.

Vasquez, Anderson and Hackett were found primarily at the canteen table (the only place with chairs on the whole damn ship), holographic images flitting between them as they discussed, voices lilting across the second floor as they evaluated every approach. Infiltration was the first to bite the dust, as Hackett underlined their inability to pass as Turian soldiers given that, well, they weren’t Turian. Direct attack fell after that, much to Anderson’s chagrin, as they observed that they simply did not have enough firepower, confirmed by Polzin, who was called up to give an opinion.

“We have explosives, not tanks.” was the opinion.

The only viable option left, given the time constraint, was to somehow sneak into the base and execute a covert snatch of the Primarch. As ideas went, it really only resisted due to the fact that they had no other options. A fact which was expressed by a very aggravated Vasquez.

“To recap: we don’t know when the Primarch will be unattended. We don’t know if he’ll be somewhere we can get him. We don’t know how to get him out without anyone noticing. Christ, people, we don’t even know how to get in. How is this our only option?”

“Lack of alternatives” came Hackett’s grumbled reply.

“Look, let’s focus on what we do know, for a moment. We know his schedule. We know how many guards will be there, the path he’ll take through the base, and we know he likes to dismiss his men so that he can inspect “impartially”. That has to give us something to work with.” added Anderson

“All information provided to us by an unknown Turian vessel, who could very well have been a decoy, or a trap, sir.” retorted Amelia, resting her elbows on the table.

The other two glanced at each other, mirroring grim expressions on their face.

“Okay” she continued, pushing herself off and pacing a few steps “We can’t think about that. Let’s go through the Primarch’s plans again, identify points of extraction. We’ll match those to the floor plans we can get with our planet side recon for entry.”

++++

That same evening, Hackett dragged his glaring eyes away from the CIC hologram to realise everyone else had turned in for the night. Passing his palms over his eyes and letting out a long suppressed yawn, he shut down the light, and found out that not quite everyone aboard the ship was asleep. Boots thudding against the floor, he made his way to the Pilot’s cabin, finding the young Serviceman Silva in his chair, manually directing the ship towards its destination.

“Don’t we have a computer for that?”

To his credit, Silva only jumped a little at the unexpected intrusion.

“I believe we do, sir. Just… doesn’t feel right to leave right now.”

“Don’t you need to sleep?”

“I took a power nap earlier, sir.”

Hackett winced at the tone. He had heard it before, that voice pulled tight over strained neck muscles, every nerve on edge. This was Silva’s first mission, and they were sending him straight to the front. Hackett gently shook his head, resting his hand on Silva’s shoulder.

“Listen, Silva, you’re doing fine. Let the computer handle it for a bit. I promise we won’t end up intercepted by a Turian cruiser on the way. And if we do, it’s equipped with evasive programming, isn’t it?”

“It is, sir, but…”

“Silva”

The younger man turned around, hands leaving the controls at Hackett’s tone, body swivelling to face him.

“Let me tell you something. It’s a saying that’s been passed down from army to army, war to war. Do you know how you can spot the man whose going to die first?”

Silva shook his head.

“He’s the one who wears his boots when he goes to sleep. It means he’s the tensest and being unable to relax, he’s too tired to be any good. So when the enemy comes, he goes.”

Hackett’s icy gaze simmered with some compassioned warmth.

“You need to learn to let go of tension, even when in a hostile situation. Rest while you still can. So that when the time comes, you’ll be ready.”

Hackett took his hand off Silva’s shoulder, turned and began to pace towards the XO cabin. His voice echoed from the CIC.

“Go to sleep Silva.”

Silva slowly rose from his chair, engaging the auto pilot, and leaned over to unlace his boots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept thinking that Alec must've gone through some transformation from nervous man going through the relay, to collected Pathfinder, so this was my attempt at showing that even he had moments of indecision, no matter appearances. 
> 
> Also, that advice Hackett gives? My dad, Vietnam vet, told me it, saying it really was how they knew. So thanks dad, for giving a sage voice to young XO Hackett.
> 
> As for all your other questions, like "What the heck is RAISE?", you'll just have wait and see...


	5. Infiltrating a base is a hard thing to do, guys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are back! With my longest chapter yet, to boot. I though about splitting it into two, but then figured, eh, it's all written there together, and I post haphazardly anyway so why drag this out? Thus, enjoy, and don't forget, kudos and reviews make me very happy. 
> 
> Oh, and I did actually try for some "science" in the "science-fiction", creating a schematic of the base, using math to calculate running speeds, walking speeds etc. If anyone wants to know about it, leave a comment or shoot me a message. Of course, this chapter is also full of the "fiction" part.
> 
> Also, also, thank you to magentacat1 for leaving kudos! And yeah, I still don't have names for half of the characters. This is becoming a thing.
> 
> On to the story!
> 
> No beta, mistakes are all mine.

The air was blisteringly warm as the Turian guard patrolled his sector. Heat waves rose from the ground, the air shimmering around him as he gazed out to the sand dunes that surrounded his base. He readjusted the strap of his weapon on his shoulder, bringing one talon up to scratch his mandibles.

He arrived at the edge of his route, and hit the prompt on his omnitool, reporting that he was now turning back. A new measure put in by command in the last two weeks, in preparation for the Primarch’s arrival.  On his march, the glint of his colleague’s rifle reflected off his crest.

“Cut it out, Macron.”

He heard the throaty chuckle of the sniper in the comms, and up in the perch the rifle was readjusted.

+++

In the cooler interior of troop housing, Primarch Grieves was marching in front of a row of bunks, eyes critically inspecting every crease and fold. He moved through the rooms, mandibles twitching every few seconds as he ticked points on his omnitool.

Walking out of the barracks, he surveyed the outpost. To his right, soldiers were running through their drills on the training range, their sergeant barking out orders from the shade of the eastern watchtower. The short beaten track in front of him gave him a clear view of his shuttle and the entry gates, where two of his men were standing guard. He turned left along the compound, making his way to the main building in the south.

Grieves entered, taking in the scene. The communal area was clean and well-kept, but unusually empty. He stood there for a few seconds, and two soldiers came out from the canteen at the far end of the room, one with a small soup blemish on his uniform. He stopped them before they could exit.

“Where is the second contingent?”

Soup stain saluted and responded: “Intel rooms, sir. Level beneath us. Mechanical specs might be in the vehicle compound below that.”

The Primarch turned toward his escort, signalling for them to wait for him there, before making his way to the stairs.

+++

Two hundred meters from the compound wall, hidden like true heroes behind a sand dune, Vasquez, Chakwas and Hackett prepared to infiltrate the compound.

“Scans show that the ramp they use to get their vehicles out is just over this dune. The Primarch should be making his way down to the garage now, which means we have maybe twenty minutes to get in and out. Anderson, you in position?”

Behind yet another dune on the other side of the enemy base, David Anderson finished placing the last of the explosive charges.

“Aye, aye Hackett, all green here.”

“Roger that. Chakwas…”

“I’ll be waiting here.”

“Vasquez?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be sir.”

“Captain, on your order.”

Back on the ship, Ryder and Harper stood in the CIC, following proceedings on the hologram.

“Go.”

+++

In the intel rooms, Grieves had just finished conferring with the second contingent captain when the alarms started blaring. One of the Turians broke away from his screen and ran up to them.

“Sirs! Seismic alarms show a sudden sinkhole off the eastern border sirs!”

“Any damage to our integrity?”

“Doesn’t look like it sir.” came the reply from another soldier.

“Send out a squad to survey the situation. I want the techs and two soldiers on it immediately.”

+++

From behind the lip of the sand dune, Vasquez and Hackett heard the ramp top open.

Vasquez peered over, and held out three fingers.

A vehicle came sweeping out. Two.

It turned and tore off. One.

The gap began to close. Zero.

They sprinted down the dune, weighed down only by a single weapon each as they sped towards the ever smaller gap. They made it a few feet down the ramp, panting heavily, when it closed, barely clearing the top of their heads.

+++

Primarch Grieves left the intel room under the assurances by the Captain that this situation was perfectly normal. The planet was riddled with sinkholes of various sizes, after all, and one more wouldn’t create problems, he was told.

He decided to finish his inspection, treading down the stairs. He was met by a wide open space, five vehicles parked, and an empty lot for where the last one had left from. The two mechanics saluted and waited until he gave confirmation to return to work.

In the far side of the room, concealed behind one of the structural pillars, Hackett levelled his rifle towards the first of the Turians. Vasquez creeped along the right wall towards Grieves, her weapon, an electric baton, held in an outstretched arm.

The Primarch nodded to the mechanics, allowing them to relax, and turned towards the transport truck nearest to him.

A shot rang out, and Grieves spun around in time to see one of his men crumble to the floor. The other tried to leap out of the way, but was struck down by a second bullet. Before Grieves could even let out a shout, a sharp pain struck him just under the left mandible, and he too fell, unconscious.

Hackett walked across the vehicle lot, and handed his weapon off to Vasquez, before leaning down to pick up the Turian. Vasquez walked over to the control panel.

“We have a problem.”

Hackett grunted with effort as he picked up the Primarch.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s all in Turian. I can’t tell what I need to press.”

+++

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me”. Anderson lay concealed three hundred meters from his explosively created sinkhole, peering through a scope to observe the small group of Turians who were peering into his creation.

It had all been going smoothly up to that point. They had made it safely from the ship, which lay two clicks away, to the base, during the first hour of the day. The plan to use Polzin’s explosives had worked perfectly, and they’d even managed to pull off the timing. And now a language barrier was going to fuck that all up?

Through his comms, he heard Ryder speak up.

“Any symbols that can help? I’ve got no visual.”

“None sir. Our translators can understand spoken Turian, but the written part is just… squiggles. I could set off every alarm as easily as I could open the ramp door.”

“And we have two contingents of soldiers above us that could come down any time, by the way.” added Hackett.

“Anderson, what’s the situation with your objective?”

“They’re still here, but I can’t imagine that they’re gonna take much longer before they head back, sir.”

On the ship, Ryder ran a hand over his face and started to think. Maybe the time for brute force had come.

“Vasquez, do you think one of their trucks could ram through the ramp top?”

+++

Vasquez jogged past Hackett, who in the meantime had put down the Primarch. She checked the plating on the trucks, ducking down to see if it was reinforced, and cursed when she realised there was no way it could resist smashing through the gate. She was about to speak, when she saw a small receiver box lodged behind one of the plates.

“Sir, it’s not gonna make it through. But I may have a solution. Can we get engineer Liao on the comms?”

A few beats passed. Liao’s voice came through.

“Talk to me Chief.”

“Sir, these trucks seem equipped with a relay, which looks very similar to the ID code boxes we had back at the colony. We would use them so that our vehicles could get in and out without having to go through security each time. Problem is, they’re usually activated only in the control centres, which is why they’re secure. Is there some way we can manipulate this one? Maybe turn it on remotely, or something?”

Liao knitted his brows together as he thought. The Chief had a good idea, true, but remotely accessing an unidentified alien device was going to be near impossible. Unless…

“Anderson”

+++

Operations Chief Anderson had been listening to the entire exchange with bated breath, acutely aware of the ticking clock, and so he was almost startled when Liao talked to him directly.

“Yes, sir?”

“The Turians near your sinkhole. They have a vehicle?”

“Yes, sir.”

 “I need you to get to that vehicle’s relay box. It should have a display with a number on it. You have to tell me that number. Think you can do it?”

“I would have to terminate the hostiles first. Then, yes, sir, I could.”

“Chakwas, the ramp top should have a relay box next to it, with a display and a keypad.”

“It does, sir.”

“Get alongside it; I’ll need you to manually input the number Anderson reads out.”

Hackett’s gravelly voice came through the comms.

“And that will open the door. Liao, you genius. Vasquez, let’s go.”

“Everyone clear?” questioned Ryder.

“I neutralise the hostiles, read the code on the display. Doc puts in the code, our guys get out. Sounds simple enough.”

“Then you have permission to engage.”

Anderson re-aligned his scope, and switched the rifle unto semi-automatic fire. He would have to be quick.

Breathe in.

The first target stood nearest to their transport, arms crossed.

Breathe out.

+++

Up in the watchtower, a Turian sniper was keeping an eye on the team investigating the sinkhole.

“External 1, this is Macron, what’s your ETA on being done?”

“Give us another t- argh!”

The words were cut short by a strangled cry. Macron could only stare as every member of the team collapsed to the ground in quick succession. He couldn’t understand what had happened, until he spotted the figure sprinting down the dune side towards his fallen soldier-in-arms.

“Control, we have hostiles, get to the Primarch!”

He tried to get a proper line of sight to the intruder, but the enemy soldier had hunkered down behind the vehicle. Behind him, the other soldiers sprinted to their positions.

+++

On the ground, Chakwas waited impatiently for Anderson to get the code. And so was the first one to see every Turian in the base suddenly spring into action, all running either for the main gate or the control building.

“I think they know we’re here. Anderson, they’re coming for you, I need the code. Now!”

“I just got to the vehicle. Right, box…box…”

“Under the bottom right plating!” came the shout from Vasquez.

+++

Hackett re-adjusted the Turian on his soldiers as he heard the Turian soldiers come rushing down the stairs. By his judgement, they had maybe a minute before they were overwhelmed. He glanced over at Vasquez, and hoped she was a good shot. Maybe that would gain them another ten seconds. They had no cover at the very edge of the ramp, but at least the tunnel was a hundred or so meters long. A great shooting gallery, came the thought, unbidden. He tried to ignore it.

Fifty seconds.

The enemy had gotten to the garage.

Fourty.

The ramp began to open, as alarmed shouts reverberated down the hall at the discovery of the bodies.

Thirty.

Hackett and Vasquez ran out, ducking under the still opening top. With Chakwas, they were still completely exposed, and were running a greater risk with every second that the Turians on base were coming out of the main gate. They started running up the nearest dune.

Twenty.

The enemy would soon be within visible range. Just as he pushed harder to climb, a vehicle came swinging around the base, ramping up the dune and screeching to a stop at the top. Anderson opened the side door.

“Fancy a ride?”

Hackett slung the body of Primarch Grieves inside, and piled in behind the others, slamming the door shut.

“Go!”

The transport tore off across the dunes, leaving the base full of soldiers behind them scrabbling.

“Faster, David!”

“Not into the sinkhole!”

“People, relax, it’s not like they can catch us”

The two soldiers not preoccupied with driving turned towards Vasquez. The vehicle lurched over another dune, and she grabbed out for support before continuing.

“I jammed the baton through the door’s relay box as I slipped through. So people can get out, but vehicles… well, those are completely stuck.”

“Can’t they use the shuttle the Primarch came on?” questioned Hackett, head banging against the side as Anderson swung towards the direction of the ship.

Vasquez considered it.

“Anderson, faster please.”

+++

Their ship was already spooling up when the land squad arrived. Harper was on the ramp, and came running down towards them. She grabbed the Primarch off of Hackett, who was more than happy to hand him off. Walking for kilometres, and then sprinting in blistering heat was hard enough without the extra two hundred pounds.

Up in the cockpit, Silva was a ball of tension, ready to go on a hair’s trigger. The second Ryder nodded, the ramp pulled up, and the engines kicked in, lifting them up and away. This, of course, caused every one of the soldiers on said ramp to end up in a pile on the floor. With the Turian Primarch.

Harper spoke up.

“Good job everybody.” 


End file.
